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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715177">Communication</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction'>MLMDarkFiction</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Boy (2016 Bell)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brahms get insecure during a consensual nonconsent roleplay and the reader comforts him, Consensual Non-Consent, Insecurity, M/M, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sexual Roleplay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:49:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t. </p><p>Brahms was capable of hurting people. </p><p>He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both. </p><p>But he’d never hurt you. </p><p>You have the utmost faith in him. </p><p>(PLEASE READ ALL TAGS BEFORE READING SO YOU ARE AWARE OF THE POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT OF THIS FIC)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brahms Heelshire/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Communication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Soft early morning light fills the kitchen of the Heelshire Estate as you work on making pancakes for you and Brahms. He's sitting at the table reading the paper, and occasionally glancing up to look at you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The radio is the only sound to accompany the sizzling of the pan. For once it didn't play the classics, instead it played one of the local stations that played the recent hits, Brahms had asked you for that after all. He'd said he wanted to see what he'd missed of the world while shut away, although you can tell from glancing at his expression that he doesn't seem to enjoy it much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you think of it?" You ask your partner, smiling at him. Even if Brahms doesn't enjoy it, you like it, humming a line under your breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't respond, and you have to hold back a bit of a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't like it?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No." His voice is low, and deep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since he'd left the walls, since your relationship had developed, Brahms had almost entirely dropped his high pitch childish voice. It seemed to be entirely reserved now for moments when he's anxious, or in the incredibly rare circumstance that there's a stranger in the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think I prefer the classics." He continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll turn it off for now then," It's a compromise. He's trying to branch out a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I like this music, so."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You see Brahms roll his eyes childishly, but you don't bring it up since he doesn't argue with you on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Here," You present a plate to Brahms. "I didn't burn it this time." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking your own plate you sit across from him, the pair of you begin to eat in silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's Brahms who speaks up to break it, "I think I'll check the traps after breakfast."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mm." You hum in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although he doesn't spend much time in the walls anymore, he's turned his old room there into an office for his dolls and any other projects he decides to work on, and lately he's had an issue with rats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A good idea. We don't want any more little visitors."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms makes a face of disgust in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The traps have been helping." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good." A soft sigh leaves your lips as you think of all the other chores you need to get today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think after I do the dishes, I'll clean the bedroom and bathroom then."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It'll be a good use of both your time, you cleaning the visible parts of the house while Brahms cleans it's innards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms finishes eating before you do, and leaves his plate in the sink for you to wash before disappearing inside the walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can hear him shifting and moving around out of sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's quiet, you're sure it's not something Brahms is actually trying to do at this point, but more of a habit. If you didn't know what to listen for, if you didn't know he was there, you probably wouldn't hear him at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hasn't left yet. He hasn't gone to check the traps yet, instead waiting to watch what you'll do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can feel his eyes intently watching you as you finish your own breakfast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Brahms is going to watch then you'll put on a show for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Humming under your breath you reach to turn the radio back on, a bit of music to set the mood, and gather your plates to take to the sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's innocent, and playful, but you know Brahms is watching intently as you rock your hips and ass along with the music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And exactly as planned you can feel Brahms’ eyes beginning to bore their way into your backside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However you’re surprised to hear the scrapes and creaks from the ancient walls as Brahms moves </span>
  <b>away </b>
  <span>from you and the view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re surprised. After all you expect Brahms to watch you for as long as he can, or at least until you’d finish the dishes and go onto your other chores. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you do finish the dishes, alone, no longer feeling the invisible presence lingering with you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s odd, but maybe he really is just looking forward to having a clean, rodent free office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t think about it anymore as you make your way upstairs, even as you hear movement mimicking your own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is it Brahms?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is it the rats?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as you were used to listening for your lover, sometimes it was still hard to tell which was which, especially when the house was so quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds persist though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can still hear the shifting, the soft footsteps, and scratching as you clean the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you wipe down the mirror you can’t help but smile at your reflection. Without Brahms hovering around you for once you’re really able to take in your own appearance. You’re tall yourself, only three inches shorter than the 6’4 Brit, but between his height and width you just feel so much smaller. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although you feel good about yourself, and your appearance, there’s something about seeing yourself next to Brahms that always has you feeling like you look soft, and squishy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huggable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not a bad thing, you think, after all Brahms seems to enjoy it quite a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the bathroom done now, you pull your long brown hair out of your face, and begin washing your hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re almost done with your chores and then…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A nap sounds good, although you’d hate to make the bed only to dirty it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So you don’t. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>You don’t make the bed, instead deciding to pick up around the bedroom. It’s already mostly clean, after all you tend to keep it that way to avoid having to do too much future cleaning later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All you really have to do is pick up the dirty clothes from the floor and move them to the-</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unusual noise.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud noise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the sound of moving furniture, the scrape of wood on wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stop, dropping the clothes into the hamper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brahms?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The noises stop abruptly as if startled by the sound of your voice, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s silent for a while, no response from Brahms, but eventually you begin to hear the regular sounds of shifting within the walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shrug it off, he’s just busy after all, and there’s a chance the sound is just carrying, Brahms might even be too far away in the house to hear you calling for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of worrying about the weird sounds you’d heard, you go back to finishing the last of your chores so you can finally take that nap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lifting the hamper into your arms you carry your and Brahms’ dirty clothes to the laundry room, humming the whole way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again you become aware of the fact you’re being watched. There’s no proof, just that </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the all too familiar feeling of being watched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amused by Brahms’ continued attention you just smile as you start the load of laundry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to take a nap now, alright?” You ask the air, waiting patiently for a response you never get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms is just busy, you figure, likely working on something now that he’s cleaned and reset all the traps, and so you head back to the bedroom, not calling out again in fear of interrupting him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your awakening isn’t gentle or even natural, it’s not Brahms’ waking you with cuddles and attempts to get your attention, no it’s a sudden loud and distinct shattering sound that wakes you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shock of it all has your heart beating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A nightmare?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Naturally that’s your first thought, it manages to calm you down, your heart rate and breathing return to normal only to immediately become erratic at a clear sound of something else breaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You could call out for Brahms but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it isn’t him, if there really is someone else in the house, that’d just make you a target. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A better idea would be to find Brahms yourself, and so you carefully get out of bed, listening for any sign of the intruder coming closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No more sounds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can’t stop the sigh of relief you give, inching your way to the door and peeking out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The source of the sound from before is obvious now, a broken vase lays in the hallway, but there’s no intruder in sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sloooowly you inch the door open just enough so that you can squeeze through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’ve only made it to steps from the bedroom door when you finally see them, the intruder, they’re standing at the bottom of the steps, clearly looking for something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The intruder is clearly a man, a man much bigger than yourself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Other than his gender, and size there’s not much else you can make out since he’s covering his face with a black ski mask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You want to curse, but you don’t, you can’t, not without risking being caught, but that’s exactly what you’re worried about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He, whoever he is, is blocking the stairs, blocking your chance at escape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking fast, you have to after all, all it would wake is him turning to see you there, you decide to go back to the bedroom. Maybe then once you’re in there, safer and with the door locked, you could try to escape out the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Squeeaak. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Double fuck!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In your haste you’d forgotten about the age of the house, forgotten that if you weren’t careful the old floor boards would squeak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And squeak they did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately you whip your head around to the stairs to see the intruder turn to face you too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears, making it almost impossible to think, your next actions fueled entirely by adrenaline, fear, and fight or flight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of doing the logical thing; running into one of the upper hallways many rooms, and locking the door shut behind you while you try to find a way either outside or into the walls, you instead try dashing past him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So stupid it works.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time the intruder reacts to you sprinting down the stairs and past him, all he can do is try (and fail) to grab you by the hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t stop, you don’t look back to see if he’s following you, you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s following you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can hear him chasing after you, the floor making desperate noises as he runs after you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally you do what you should have done to begin with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brahms!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a panicked scream, not the gentle calls from before when you’d heard him in the walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You want Brahms to hear you, want him to save you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brahms, please!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Freedom is in sight running through the kitchen, you’ve almost made your way to the back door before-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Pain</b>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sharp, searing pain spreading through your head as you’re forcibly pulled back and into the intruder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment you just pant in pain and panic, an arm firmly wrapped around your middle keeping you in place, when you go to scream out once again for Brahms the hand that had been in your hair instead goes to your mouth, roughly clamping over it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You feel like you’re going to hyperventilate, forced to breath out your nose as the strong hand keeps your mouth covered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Don’t scream.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man's voice is low, rough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sends a shiver down your spine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s waiting for you to confirm, you realize after a moment of tense silence, and so you force yourself to nod despite his tight hold on your face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hand leaves your mouth, and so you take the opportunity to quickly breath in through your mouth, trying to calm your panicked heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-Please…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your voice trembles a little as you’re finally face to face with the masked assailant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s so much bigger than you. You knew that before but now up close, face to face, you realize just how big of a difference it is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You realize just how much danger you’re really in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The word barely leaves your mouth, throat feeling too dry to speak. He doesn’t seem to care though, like a predator watching his prey he lies in wait until you’re able to try again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do anything if you just...don’t hurt me. Anything, just...let me go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow that’s the scariest thing you think he could have responded with, and you can feel the ball of anxiety inching ever tighter in your gut before he finally speaks up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You gulp on instinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Are you really sure you’re willing to do anything for me to let you go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Words leave you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s too scary to think about what he’s going to make you do, so you decide not to, you just...turn your brain off, and you nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s all the confirmation the man needs, as he grabs you then, pulling you hard and flush against him, where you find that he himself is hard and flush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now you know where this is going and although you’re shocked and anxious, you feel a part of yourself exhilarated by the whole situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s grinding his cock against you steadily now, your body still forced against his own, and you can’t help but pant softly, your own body beginning to heat up in response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You jump at the contact of rough, slightly chapped lips on your neck, a nervous moan leaving your own in surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although your attacker is wearing a mask, you can feel the hints of stubble below, all creating a familiar sensation of pleasure as he kisses all your sensitive spots, as if he knows from experience where they are. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Teeth sink into your unmarred flesh with the intention to mark it, mark you, and all you can do is let the attacker have his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no way for you to tell how long you stood like that with your attacker in the kitchen, his hard cock grinding against your own slowly hardening member, as he covers your neck in dark hickeys you’ll have no chance of covering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually though the other seems to grow tired of just grinding. He wants more. He wants something else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On your knees.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rough hands push you down and away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You almost stumble as you do as you’re told, hurrying to get into position out of fear of what might happen if you disobey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as your knees connect with the kitchen's cold tile floor, you’re met with the intruder's cock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard, the tip is shiny and red already smeared with his ever leaking precum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instinctually you lick your lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A firm hand rests on your lower back, scooting you slightly towards him, towards his dick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fearfully you look up at the masked man to see him look back, expectation clear on his half covered face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?” He asks, smugness dripping from his tone, “Don’t you know what to do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you do, so you do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You take his cock into your mouth, just the head at first. The taste and smell completely dominate your senses as you lick the head clean, nursing the tip of any access pre. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes slipping shut you focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to think about who the stranger who the cock in your mouth belongs to, or the strain that’s quickly becoming apparent in your own pants, no you just want to make this man cum as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ack-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of his cock enters your mouth, threatening to enter your unprepared throat as you jolt, a sudden stinging sensation going through your ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d spanked you!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through your clothes sure, but it hurt nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Open your eyes,” He threatens, the first spank having only been a warning. “I want you to look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When you comply you’re met with a small kindness, those big hands that had spanked you before now soothingly rubbing at your covered ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep sucking.” He says meeting your eyes as he reminds you of the task at hand, and you do as you’re told. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You tongue the underside of his shaft, looking up as you feel your shorts removed, followed quickly by your underwear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cool air makes you shiver, and a soft noise leaves your throat, vibrating the length in your throat, as your captor traces your own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You feel his laughter, the way it rumbles through his body, before you actually hear it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands are needing your ass forcing moans and other reluctant noises of pleasure adding to the rumbled vibrations to your captors cock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cum</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s all you’re thinking about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cum. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to make him cum. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to make him cum before-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems like your captor has tired of squeezing and toying with your ass as if it’s a stress ball, because the moments relief you feel as he finally stops is immediately interrupted by the feeling of a large finger tracing your rim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bit panicked you press against his thighs, but are only met with a forced buck into your throat before his free hand pulls you back and off his cock by your long hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No words come. You're too busy regaining air to your neglected lungs after that last harsh thrust in your mouth, and so you’re unable to protest as he forces you to the ground entirely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Wait! Oh~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A finger, just one, is forced inside you, and you’re forced to silence, the air taken from your lungs so suddenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a finger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only a finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s so thick, thicker than your own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man says nothing, but you can feel the weight of his body atop your own, the rise and fall of his chest as he excitedly begins to pump his finger in and out, fucking you with it, as his cock grinds and thrusts against your thigh staining it as he leaks eagerly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You remain breathless as a second finger is added, and already you feel so full. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please- Ah- Fuck-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to speak with thick fingers fucking into you, spreading and stretching your inner walls, making it so you’ll maybe, maybe be able to take that monster cock waiting for you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears spring to your eyes at the realization that this is very much real, and when the fingers leave you, when you feel the man above you shift his weight to get into position you try to squirm away finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The kitchen door is there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s right there.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re inches away from freedom, but....</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cock lines itself up with your stretched entrance, you cringe and sob expecting what’s to come and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yellow.” It’s a whisper in an all to familiar voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not just </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>voice, but his child voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything stops then, you wipe the fake tears from your face, and wiggle into a turn so that you’re facing the other man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets you gently take his face into your hands, doesn’t react as you lift the ski mask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms looks unsure, nervous, and is clearly receding into himself as if he’d done something wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s your job to assure him he hadn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” The question is gentle, soft, the last thing you want is to make things worse. Gently you rub circles with your thumb against the scared part of his cheek, and he lets you, leaning into the familiar touch for comfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seemed...You seem…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice is going back and forth between his own and the child voice, but you don’t rush him, you wait patiently for him to gather himself, no matter the voice he uses to express himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seemed really afraid.” He finally manages to tell you, moving to hug you, his body bent a bit so he can hide his face in your neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms is supposed to be your protector. He doesn’t want you to be afraid or disgusted by him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew it was you,” It’s a soft explanation, your hands gently rubbing soothingly at his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just acting,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good actor.” Brahms sounds almost as if he’s pouting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It makes you laugh actually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you but...I’m sorry I scared you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I ruined the roleplay you wanted to do…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s scared he ruined things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Brahms sweetie, it’s okay.” You squeeze him in the embrace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why we have safewords.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods lightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would never want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms seems a bit more relaxed now, at least enough that he’s stopped hiding behind his child voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Did I ruin the mood?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” A gentle smile takes your face. “You didn’t ruin the mood, but if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to continue, okay? I won’t be mad.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s clear hesitation before Brahms answers you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we stop for today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shyly interrupts you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could we just...make love instead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your answer is given in the form of your lips on his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A soft, loving kiss, and when you pull away you’re both smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but...We have got to move to the bed, the floor is killing my back. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a painless enough move to the bedroom, although you notice Brahms has decided to don the ski mask once again, only slightly pushed up to reveal his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” You tell him softly, pulling him closer to you as you get comfortable in bed facing one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Before continuing you kiss him, it’s passionate, loving, you use the distraction to remove the mask entirely, throwing it to the corner of the room before running your hands through his dark curly hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Finally you continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s going to change that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was keeping the mask on for you, but you want to let him know he doesn’t have to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You love </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time initiated by Brahms himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s already hard from before, as are you, and so after the kisses, the reassurance, he wastes no time in rolling on top of you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is...this alright?” He asks, lining up with your entrance, just as he had in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” You nod panting, reaching down to stroke your cock only to have your hand batted away by Brahms, who takes you into his hand himself, giving a slow stroke in time with his gentle first thrust inside you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With your hands free thanks to Brahms you use one to pull him close, hooked around his neck as the other rubs his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So big, broad, masculine, and hairy, like Brahms himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You love it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like you love him .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s waiting for you to give him confirmation, that you’ve adjusted, that you’re ready for him to move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your hand curls against his hairy chest as you find yourself quickly wanting more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Move.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s sudden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, more.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms doesn’t need to be told twice, although he’s still gentle at first. Gentle until you’re throwing your hips back against his, bucking into his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gentle administrations now are so different from before, downstairs, but it’s nice, no, wonderful, in its own right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While you moan Brahms’ name and ask him for more, he grunts and pants almost silently above you, only occasionally giving you words of praise, saying that he loves you, that he loves being with you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A kiss ends your kisses, now muffled by Brahms’ mouth as his hand strokes you, thumb rubbing the head of your cock and pushing you closer to the edge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hits your prostate, and that’s the end of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moan that leaves your throat is eaten by the kiss, but your cum fills his hand, and stains your chest as you shudder with pleasure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms only manages a few more thrusts of his own before spilling inside of you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re hot, sticky, and satisfied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll...have to change the sheets,” You say dumbly as Brahms finally pulls out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only a few moments of noncontact as Brahms pulls out, and makes himself comfortable in bed. As soon as that’s finished he’s pulling you to him and on your side, spooning you lovingly, beard tickling the back of your neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All you need is to catch your breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After that you know there’s still things you and Brahms need to talk about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You need to talk about what happened with the role play. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You need to make sure there’s no doubt in Brahms’ mind that you’re not mad at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms makes a soft noise into your neck. It’s clear he doesn’t really believe you, and so you continue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just thought it would be fun, it’s not serious.” You continue, pressing your back more against him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole concept of it all is kind of funny, in retrospect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was just a fantasy...you know?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>You feel Brahms shift before the gentle feeling of lips pressing into your shoulders and neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’d never hurt me,” Because he wouldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms was capable of hurting people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d hurt someone if it meant protecting you both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’d never hurt you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You have the utmost faith in him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it’s hard to not think about, knowing you were in the walls for so long...watching.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms makes a soft hum into your neck. He still doesn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, and you can’t say you blame him, despite your best efforts to explain the kink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not important.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You reiterate, “I love you, and I’m not mad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More nuzzles into your back, and more tickles from the beard rubbing against your neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The affection hopefully means that Brahms is feeling better, less guilty about what he believes to be him ruining the night.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Safe words are there for both of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next time you’ll both be more prepared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe this happening was a good thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If something was wrong, if you felt uncomfortable with it, or if I did...Or if either of us just wanted to stop...That’s why they’re there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, but I…”</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No,” You don’t let him finish whatever self depreciation he was starting with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t start with that,” You wiggle and squirm your way into facing Brahms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s bashful. It’s cute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although he stares back at you, you can see the color in his cheeks, and the uncertainty in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If things were reversed, would you be angry at me for stopping?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen just a little, and you see him shake his head quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even today he’d stopped because he’d truly believed your performance. He thought you were scared, or hurting, and he couldn’t continue without confirmation you were really okay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So...naturally…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would never be upset if you needed, or wanted to stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s kind of what makes it click in his mind, guilt dissipating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t hate me?” Now that he’s feeling more confident it’s asked mainly in jest, a small smile on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t hate you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Getting up from the bed you offer a hand to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, we both need a bath.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s true, you can feel cum starting to drip down your ass and onto your thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really, you don’t have to tell him twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>being dirty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His time in the walls, before you knew he was there, before he was able to move around the house freely, shower freely, was hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The water begins to fill the tub as Brahms goes through the cabinets looking for something, bubbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You raise an eyebrow as he brings the bottle over, grinning a bit childishly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bubbles?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods, undeterred by your skepticism. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bubbles are romantic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well you can’t argue with that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pink liquid pours into the tub below, and the water becomes soapy, full of bubbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sweet smell has begun to take over the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brahms!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Water splashes to the floor as he enters the tub, laying back, and making himself comfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” He doesn’t seem to mind the fact he’d just made a wet mess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all you can do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all more water begins spilling from the tub as you enter yourself, getting comfortable before you’re forcibly pulled to Brahms’ chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” You pout up at him. “I was comfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re comfortable like this too; back pressed against Brahms’ hairy chest, while his arms hold you gently but firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s nice, you could fall asleep here like this, in a warm embrace, in warm bubbly water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you still love me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brahms is resting his chin on your head, not looking at you, but straight ahead as he holds you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question takes you a bit by surprise, but you just lean more into his hold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With all my heart Brahms, with all my heart.”</span>
</p>
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